


None of Us Know What We're Doing: The True Start of the Fabulous Killjoys

by spaceMaverick



Series: Killjoys 'Verse [4]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: ADHD, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autism, Backstory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Families of Choice, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Gen, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Neurodiversity, Nicknames, No Romance, Nonbinary Jet Star (Danger Days), Nonbinary Kobra Kid, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Schizophrenia, Sibling Love, Team as Family, The Fabulous Killjoys (Danger Days) Are Not MCR, Time Skips, Trans Fun Ghoul, Trans Jet Star (Danger Days), Trans Kobra Kid, Trans Party Poison, Triggers, Zones Culture and Customs (Fabulous Killjoys), it goes generally in chronological order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23923135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceMaverick/pseuds/spaceMaverick
Summary: No one this hostile could be very used to the Zones. And by the look of both kids’ clothes and possible age, they were probably from the City.“Look, you’re gonna die out here without shelter.” Jet took a step closer, until he was next to Ghoul. “We have a spot not far from here, and your friend doesn’t look okay. Let us take you there.”(Now with a new shiny title!)
Relationships: Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Jet Star (Danger Days), Kobra Kid & Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Killjoys 'Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725742
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PRAYING that my mcr hyperfixation gets me through this and justifies me posting it while its not done.  
> this is my big-ass fic on how jet and ghoul met party and kobra, and became a team!
> 
> i also just wanna say that if theres any weird or inaccurate details its because i dont know SHIT about this universe. ive read the comic but there really isnt much canon info, and im not well-versed on popular fanon. so yeah. i feel like a fraud throwing the words witch and destroya around to replace god like i know what im doing, but im trying my best

Jet looked up at the dull blue sky and hiked his backpack higher on his shoulders. He and Ghoul were almost home from a market trip, and he couldn’t be happier. They’d gotten some actual canned food, as well as more bandages and even some scrap fabric. Ghoul was humming absent-mindedly as they walked.

“Hey,” Ghoul said, stopping and pointing to a stretch of sand dotted with thin trees and one larger juniper. “What’s over there?” Jet looked over. The darkening sky made everything shades of blue and purple, but at the base of the juniper tree was the unmistakable shape of a person, curled against themself. It looked like they were leaning over something. As Ghoul led him closer, it became clear that that some _thing_ was a some _one._ Jet’s breath hitched in his throat, and he sped up to stand next to them.

“Hello?” Jet started. “Are you alright-”

The person snarled, honest-to-Destroya _snarled_ at him. They looked a little younger than Jet, their soft face wrinkled in rage with bared teeth. Next to (and a little under) them was a _much_ younger kid who seemed to be unconscious.

“Whoa dude,” Ghoul stepped between Jet and the stranger, hands out. “Chill. Take a breath. You guys should be getting to some shelter. Do you have anywhere to go?”

The stranger shoved some of their messy brown hair out of their face before shaking their head. They looked between Ghoul, the person beside them, and back to Jet. Their gaze settled on Jet, who shuffled and stared down at his hands. No one this hostile could be very used to the Zones. And by the look of both kids’ clothes and possible age, they were probably from the City. Jet took a breath and met the stranger’s eyes. They hadn’t stopped staring at him.

“Look, you’re gonna die out here without shelter.” He took a step closer, until he was next to Ghoul. “We have a spot not far from here, and your friend doesn’t look okay. Let us take you there.”

With some convincing, the stranger let Jet and Ghoul take them and their friend to the old diner. They wouldn’t let either of them help carry their friend, stubbornly carrying them on their back. They kept trying to look back at Ghoul, who always held up the back of any group he was in, but their friend blocked their view. Jet couldn’t help but sigh heavily when they crossed the doorway, dropping his backpack on the floor. He turned around to see Ghoul dart into the kitchen with both bags. His voice came through a moment later.

“We’ve got blankets over here. You okay with sleeping in one a’ the booths?” When their guest simply nodded, he picked up the thickest blanket in their possession- an old comforter with some of its stuffing missing. Jet grabbed a can of Power Pup and held it up in question. The stranger shook their head. Jet shrugged and walked over to the booth, helping Ghoul untangle himself from the comforter. The stranger had finally set their friend down. They were small and skinny, with slightly lighter brown hair and a cracked pair of glasses. The stranger pulled the comforter tight around their friend, pulling their upper half across their lap. They looked up silently at Jet and Ghoul, expression unreadable. Ghoul mumbled a goodnight and walked to his usual sleeping spot. Jet watched the two for a moment longer before joining his friend.

“They haven’t spoken once,” Jet whispered as he laid down on the old mattress. Ghoul shrugged.

“We don’t talk much, either.”

“Do you think either of them are sick?”

“Oh, most definitely. But we can’t do _shit_ until they let us. I’ll start checking them in the morning.” He turned to Jet. “You think they’re from the City?” Jet nodded. Ghoul sighed, the underlying layers of anger only detectable to Jet after knowing him for a few months. Ghoul always got weird and upset around City escapees; he’d been born in the desert, but managed to hate the City more than any former citizen Jet had ever known. “They sure are good at fucking kids up,” he muttered, turning over and settling in.

Jet layed on his back and stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach. _They sure are good at fucking kids up._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ends first chapter with them going to sleep* *ends second chapter with them going to sleep*

Jet woke to the sound of Ghoul mumbling under his breath. The black-haired kid was pacing small circles, throwing the occasional glance at their still sleeping visitors. Jet pushed himself to his feet and brushed his hand against Ghoul’s in greeting. Ghoul looked up at him and made a frustrated gesture to the booth.

“Should we wake them up?” Jet asked. Ghoul nodded. Jet walked over to the booth, leaning down and patting the table in front of the kids. The one sitting upright woke with a start, but didn’t lash out the way they had last night. They stared wide-eyed at Jet for a moment before seeming to recognize him and calming down. “How are you?” Jet said softly.

The kid shrugged and looked down at their friend. They were still asleep, but their brow was furrowed as if they’d be waking up soon. Ghoul finally stepped forward to speak.

“I let you guys sleep last night, but I really need to check you over. Are either of you sick?” He’d straightened his back the way he did when he was being official. Ghoul had a lot of first-aid experience, and took his responsibilities as a healer seriously. When the kid didn’t respond, Ghoul sighed. “Will you at least tell me your name?”

“It’s, uh… Gerard.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s not even a name. But it’s fine; I wasn’t asking for your birth name.” He shook out his hands; a nervous tic. “My name is Fun Ghoul, you can call me Ghoul for short. We don’t do normal names out here.”

“I know.” Gerard said, voice clipped. Ghoul visibly held back a retort and smoothed out his face.

“How long have you been in the Zones?” He asked.

Gerard paused. “A month. Little over.” Their friend shifted in their lap, letting out a small groan. “Hey, good morning,” they said, voice instantly soft and low. “Hey man. We stayed the night at someone’s place. It’s all good.” They coaxed their friend upright and handed them their glasses.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Jet said, making an effort to look the kid in the eye. “You really gave us a fright yesterday.”

“Your friend here is going by Gerard. You gonna pick a name?” Ghoul asked.

“Leave him alone,” Gerard growled. They turned to their friend, placing a hand on his leg. “I panicked when they asked me my name and said Gerard. What do you want them to call you?”

The kid looked up at Jet and Ghoul. “I’m Lucas,” he said in a surprisingly clear voice for a definitely ill person who’d just woken up.

“Hi Lucas. I’m Jet, and this is Ghoul. He wants to know if either of you are sick.” Ghoul nodded his confirmation.

Lucas and Gerard looked at each other. They seemed to have a silent conversation before Lucas turned to them again. “I’m having withdrawals.”

“The BLI meds?” Jet clarified. Lucas nodded. “Okay, that’s pretty common; we can deal with that. When was the last time you two ate?” Withdrawals from BLI’s pills usually involved heavy mood swings as the brain got used to feeling a regular flow of emotions. They just had to keep Lucas rested and safe until he stabilized.

“Yesterday morning,” Lucas said.

“Oh man, lemme get some food for y’all.” Ghoul turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen. Lucas watched him go, fidgeting with his hands. Gerard saw Jet staring and glared at him. Jet kept his eyes on the floor until Ghoul returned with an opened can of kidney beans and two spoons. “We just went to the market, so we have more than just Power Pup! Here.” Gerard took the can and handed it to Lucas, who tentatively started eating. He kept looking around, like someone was going to jump out from behind one of the tables. Eventually he passed the can to Gerard. Jet let himself relax; now that the two of them were eating, he and ghoul could feed themselves. He nudged Ghoul back to the kitchen to give Gerard and Lucas some space.

The rest of the day was spent watching Lucas and Gerard from a distance, while Ghoul came over every so often to check on Lucas and keep him sitting. Gerard slowly stopped glaring every time Jet or Ghoul looked at him or Lucas, and Lucas cooperated with Ghoul’s instructions and kept a handle on Gerard’s anger. Neither of them talked much, if at all, and Lucas kept staring at nothing and whistling at random. It wasn’t the weirdest thing Jet had seen- or done, but the look on Gerard’s face when he did it made Jet worry; he would look in the direction Lucas was staring and either nod or shake his head, and he looked almost sad when he started mumbling. Jet chalked it up to withdrawals, but kept an eye on Lucas nonetheless.

Gerard rarely left Lucas’ side at the booth, only standing to accompany him to the bathroom. When Ghoul gave the OK for Lucas to stand and walk freely, they migrated to a corner of the diner and huddled together. Lucas scanned the diner frequently, making lots of accidental eye contact with Jet. His eyes were the same hazel as Gerard’s, with pronounced eyebags and deep shadows caused by always-furrowed eyebrows.

About three days into their stay, Lucas had a sudden lapse in health. He’d been extra shaky all day, and finally collapsed after being startled by a noise outside. Ghoul got him back to a booth to lay down and checked him over.

“He’s got a fever,” he said. Gerard pushed him out of the way to sit next to Lucas, putting his head in his lap. He leaned over him and brushed his hair out of his face. Lucas opened his eyes and gripped Gerard’s wrist. Ghoul put his hand on his forehead again. “Jet, do we have any rags clean?”

“Yeah, I’ll get some water.” Jet darted into the kitchen and found a scrap of fabric from a stash he’d cleaned recently and soaked it with some of their saved water. He wrung it out slightly and came back, putting it over Lucas’ forehead. Gerard patted it down and rested his hand on Lucas’ chest. He’d fallen asleep and was breathing shallowly. Jet could see Gerard holding back tears and stopped himself from putting a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be okay,” he said gently.

Gerard didn’t answer. He hunched over farther, Lucas’ shirt bunched in his fist.

“Let them be,” Ghoul said, taking Jet’s hand and pulling him away. “Lucas should be okay.”

“It gets better before it gets worse…” Jet breathed. “You’re right. You’re always right. It’s just… a lot. To see Gerard like that.” With his hyper-empathy, living in groups could be difficult. And ever since Gerard and Lucas showed up, emotions were running high. He let out a shuddering breath and ruffled Ghoul’s hair. “Thanks, though. For saying it.”

Ghoul smoothed his hair down with an exasperated smile. “No prob. Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i need these guys to pick nicknames SOON i hate writing gerards name in a fanfic. but its funny


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im rapid-fire posting these first three chapters because i already have them written im sorry in advance to anyone whos interested in this fic the updates will be completely at random

Shuffling feet woke Jet this time, but it was the middle of the night. In the darkness, Jet could see the shapes of Gerard and Lucas moving around the diner. He stayed quiet, watching Gerard hold Lucas around his waist and move him towards the door. Lucas was leaning heavily on Gerard, slipping occasionally. _Okay,_ Jet thought, _this is not good. This is not good at all._ What was Gerard’s plan, dragging his sick friend outside at night in the desert? He waited until they were out the door before standing up.

“Ghoul, we gotta get up,” he said, touching a foot to Ghoul’s side. “Gerard and Lucas snuck out.”

Ghoul pushed himself up on his elbows. “What the fuck?” He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “They’re gonna fucking die.”

“I’m gonna catch up to them. You better come along in case they fight back.” Ghoul nodded, following quickly behind Jet’s long strides. He could see Gerard now lugging Lucas, who looked unconscious. Gerard’s silhouette froze; he’d spotted Jet and Ghoul. He started pulling Lucas with more urgency. Jet started running to catch up.

“What’s going on?” Jet called. “Is Lucas okay?”

“Go away!” Gerard yelled. He tripped and fell in their distraction and scrambled to get between Lucas and Jet, who’d finally caught up. Gerard was trembling, hands digging into the sand like claws. “Leave us alone!” His eyes were wide, like the night they’d met. _Witch help us._

Jet took a slow step forward, hands open. ~~_Like he was approaching a hostile animal._~~ “Lucas is going to die out here, he’s sick!” He bent down, hands on his knees. “What are you doing?”

Gerard glowered up at him. There was a pause before he lunged forward, clawing at Jet’s face. Jet jerked back, throwing his arms out to shove Gerard away. Ghoul slammed into Gerard’s side, bowling him over and pinning him down. Gerard screamed and kicked wildly, making Jet clutch his head at the overwhelming emotion. He turned his back to Ghoul and Gerard to check on Lucas. He was still breathing, but the desert floor couldn’t be comfortable. Jet reached out to shake his shoulder gently.

“Lucas?” He kept hold of his shoulder. “You need to wake up, we gotta get back to the diner-”

“Lucas!” Gerard cried. “Don’t fucking touch him!” His snarl directed at Jet turned into another scream as he fought against Ghoul again.

“We have to get home,” Ghoul grunted. Jet turned to see him pull Gerard up, holding his arms behind his back. Jet accidentally looked Gerard in the eye and cringed, turning around and scooping up Lucas across his arms.

“Hold him tighter,” Gerard snapped, any intended malice ruined by how choked-up he was. “He’s gonna fall.” Jet tightened his grip around Lucas. The boy shifted to face his chest, eyes shut tight.

“You awake?” Jet whispered. Lucas groaned. “It’s okay, we’re going back to the diner.”

Gerard’s sniffles echoed through the empty night air. Ghoul had loosened his grip on his arms, but stayed close behind him on the way back to the diner. Jet hoisted Lucas higher as he started slipping. They crossed the doorway, and Jet laid Lucas down in the corner he and Gerard had taken up instead of the booth. Ghoul let go of Gerard, who dropped beside Lucas and grabbed at him until he was curled around him, still trembling.

“See if he’ll wake up; I’m going to get him some water,” Ghoul said, leaving Jet alone with the miserable children huddled in a corner. Jet sat on a nearby chair. Gerard propped himself up and shook Lucas, who rolled onto his back with a confused hum. 

“Ghoul’s getting you water,” Gerard murmured. “God, I’m so sorry, I-” he was interrupted by a loud cough. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He pressed his forehead against Lucas’ shoulder. “I just wanted to- to be alone with you, if you were going to…” He trailed off into more suppressed sobs. Ghoul returned with a bottle of water, which Lucas took and drank most of before making Gerard drink some. Ghoul took the seat next to Jet, resting his elbows on the table.

“So,” he drawled, kicking his legs, “If you don’t mind me asking, what the fuck was that?”

Jet jabbed him in the side. “I swear to the Witch, it’s a miracle you’ve survived with your lack of social skills.” He glanced at Lucas. “What happened?”

“I got worse. Gerard wanted to…” They looked at each other, another silent conversation taking place. They seemed to come to an agreement, but Lucas looked down at his hands as he spoke, “He wanted us to be alone, if I was dying.”

“Holy shit, dude, he’s not gonna die.” Ghoul probably would have laughed if he wasn’t already so scared. He was right, though; the withdrawals were difficult, but they could only kill you if they made you suicidal or a danger to yourself in some other emotional way. Physical illness was usually mild, but needed good attention or the harsh environment would make it worse.

“The best thing for you two is to _stay inside._ We need to make sure Lucas is emotionally stable while the meds wear off.”

“I’ve never been emotionally stable in my life,” Lucas said with a wry laugh. His face fell quickly. “I’m hallucinating really bad, Gerard.”

Gerard was immediately alert. “What’s up?” He gripped Lucas’ forearm gently.

“Weird lines…” Lucas’ speech turned to a mumble.

“Is this normal?” Ghoul asked.

“He’s always done this, yeah,” Gerard replied, still watching Lucas. “Hey, do you want to be alone? Or are you okay here?”

“I wanna stay here.”

“Uh, Fun Ghoul, can you get some more water?” Gerard said awkwardly. Ghoul nodded and took the bottle he’d given them to refill. Jet watched Gerard run his hand up and down Lucas’ arm, probably to ground him in reality. Lucas still looked alert, albeit a little more nervous.

“Is there anything I should do?” Jet asked, feeling weird about watching someone hallucinate. He was no stranger to weird brain functions, both in others and himself, but it felt invasive to see Lucas this vulnerable, with Gerard anxiously touching and talking to him.

“Keep talking,” Lucas said. Jet had expected Gerard to reply, but nodded and jumped into a story about how he found one of his favorite trinkets and most prized possessions: an intact snowglobe from 1999. 

It was about a year before he had met Fun Ghoul, when he was a lone traveller. He’d just barely escaped from a small group of Dracs, and was hiding in a broken down abandoned building. The floor was so broken and worn that the wood gave way to sand in some places. He wasn’t one-hundred percent sure if the Dracs had lost him, so he stayed there for a long time (most likely longer than he needed). He was staring around the dusty interior when he noticed something reflecting the sunlight onto a wall. When he went to investigate, he found the snowglobe, half-buried in the sand. The design on the base was worn away except for the engraved year, but the inside was still clear, and had a figurine of a brown bear with a small red star on top of it. He managed to keep it safe in his backpack for a few months before he moved into the diner, where it was tucked away on a shelf further inside.

When Jet finished his story, Lucas had finished the second water bottle and was listening intently. Even Gerard seemed calmer, and was facing him with his legs crossed. Jet felt his throat going dry in the silence, when suddenly Ghoul slammed his hands down on Jet’s shoulders.

“Cool globe story,” Ghoul said with a smirk as Jet shrieked at the sudden contact. “You know, I found a _pristine_ toothpick the other day-”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jet retorted, twisting around in his chair to yank Ghoul into a headlock. “Have you seen _anything_ from 1999?”

“Everyone’s seen Dr. D. Y’ain’t special.”

“He doesn’t count! And he’s way older than that!”

“Who’s Dr. D?” Gerard asked.

Jet stopped shoving Ghoul into his jacket. “You’ve been here for over a _month_ and haven’t heard of Dr. Death-Defying?” Gerard shook his head. Lucas hummed in agreement. “Oh, Destroya.” He threw his arms up. “Where’s a fuckin’ radio, you two need some _culture.”_

“He’s the best radio host in the Zones,” Ghoul said amidst Jet’s rambling. “Always playin’ the best music, giving news updates and concert announcements. And he’s got a friend that does late night poetry, if that’s your thing.” He looked over at Jet, still tearing the diner apart looking for a radio. “Aren’t you s’posed to have one a’ those shits on your person like, at all times?”

“I broke mine in the last clap, remember?” Jet stopped to shoot a venomous glare at Ghoul. _“You_ were supposed to help me fix it.”

“Ah, fuck, I forgot about that.”

_“Yeah.”_

“My bad! Here,” Ghoul stood up and rummaged around in his backpack until he found his radio. He tossed it to Jet. “Go nuts.”

Jet caught the radio and shook his hands with a grin. “Fuck yes. _Fuck_ yes. Now we’re talking. We are _speaking._ Words are flying. Conversation commencing-”

“Just turn on the fucking radio!” Ghoul laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing brings a group together quite like dragging the kid youve known for three days kicking and screaming back to the house after he tried to die alone with his "friend" (brother)  
> also i got to write jet doing my classic Messing With Synonyms trait hell yeah
> 
> edit: i have an mcr tumblr by the way! its mychemicalaromanticism. i talk about my progress on this fic as well as reblog mass amounts of pictures and memes. sometimes i post art. check me out lol


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im struggling a lot with this chapter so im separating it into more than one chapter because i hate waiting to post  
> small reminder that i dont have any proofreaders other than myself and i dont proofread nearly as much as i should

“Hey, who wants to scavenge the old office building?” Jet leaned against the doorframe separating the kitchen from the dining room, glancing around to see Ghoul sitting on the front counter and Lucas and Gerard in a booth. “Dr. D declared it Drac-free, and there might be some cool stuff.”

Ghoul hopped off the counter and tugged his boots on. “Hell yeah, maybe they’ve got some playing cards.” Jet sighed, remembering the fate of their last deck. Ghoul had eaten a card in a fit of rage after being caught lying during a game of Bullshit.

“Won’t other people be there if it was on the radio?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah, but it’s an office building. There won’t be anything too important, so it should be peaceful.” Jet watched Gerard and Lucas mumble to each other before Gerard slid out of the booth and helped Lucas out.

“Alright, then,” he says. “It’s about a mile out, right? Do we have everything we need?”

Jet smiles. “I like how you think, kid.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“You’re _what?”_ Jet thought he was at least two years older than Gerard. “I’m sixteen, too! Wait, how old are you, Lucas?”

“Twelve.”

“Damn,” Jet put a hand to his forehead. “You two look way younger than you are.”

“I can’t believe I’m _still_ the youngest!” Ghoul cried. He pointed an accusatory finger at Lucas. “You’re a year older than me!”

 _“Anyway,”_ Jet interrupted, “Gerard, we’ve got enough bags for the four of us, and plenty of water. It isn’t a horrible walk, so we’ll be fine. Also, sorry for thinking you were like, fourteen.” Gerard rolled his eyes and let Lucas pull him towards the door.

Jet had been near the office building before, but never inside. It was visible from the diner; four storeys of pre-war concrete. It was a miracle it was still standing, and that it had taken this long for Better Living to find and officially condemn it. He wondered if the people who worked in it were anything like the citizens of Battery City. Did they have the same restraints? Were they happy with their jobs, or were they simply assigned a task for the rest of their life? Where did the world’s history end and Better Living’s begin?

“The entrance is to the left.” Ghoul’s voice from the back pulled Jet out of his existential spiral. He was talking to Gerard and Lucas, who were staring up at the building’s cracked windows. Jet realized he’d spent the 15-minute walk lost in thought. He led the group to the large entryway of tall columns and the remains of a glass front. The doors had been wrenched open for as long as Jet could remember, but it looked like they used to be operated by a large button on the right wall. He could hear multiple voices coming from somewhere out of sight inside, and reminded himself that no one would be looking for food or resources here. _There isn’t going to be a fight over some old office supplies._ As they made their way into the main room of the first floor, Jet could see three other people gathered at what was probably a receptionist’s desk. A tall, skinny blonde person looked up as they entered.

“Hey!” They called, giving a small wave. The other two in the group followed the blonde’s gaze to stare at Jet and the others. One was pale with brown hair, and the other had medium-tan skin and long dark brown hair worn in a ponytail. The long-haired one stood up from their crouched position behind the desk and walked over.

“You guys here from Dr. D?” Jet nodded. “Cool. I’m Supernova, she/her.”

“Jet Star, he/him.”

“Fun Ghoul, any pronouns.”

“My name’s Lucas. I guess… he/him?”

“Gerard… he/him.”

The blonde raised their hand. “Whiplash, she/they!” She tugged on the other brunette, who added, “Smoke Rings, he/him.”

Supernova smiled fondly at her crew. “We just got here, but we’re gonna check out the second floor. You looking for anything specific?”

“Playing cards!” Ghoul said excitedly. “You?”

“Nope, just scouting the place out.” She paused, then added in a lower tone, “We’re all cool, right? There’s no need to fight over any of this stuff.”

Jet nodded. “Totally. Just curious about this spot. It’s been around forever, y’know?”

More at ease now, Supernova returned the nod with a smile. “I wonder if there’s any cool historical stuff?” She turned back to her crew, calling over her shoulder. “Good luck with your cards!”

Jet looked at Ghoul, who was beaming. “She was nice.” He looked around the large marble room. “I’m gonna stick down here and see if there’s a basement. What about y’all?”

“I wanna see if there’s roof access, so I’ll check out the fourth floor,” Jet said.

“I’ll just wander up wherever,” Lucas said, glancing at Gerard. “You wanna come with?”

“I think I’m gonna go to the second floor.” Gerard was staring at where the other group had gone up the stairs. “You can go where you want,” he said to Lucas.

Ghoul clapped his hands together. “Cool. We all got radios, yeah?” He waited for everyone to nod. “Good. Keep in touch; tell everyone if you go to a different floor. Let’s see what we can find!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, the first hints of Gender  
> some gender details: jet is cis but very loose with his identity, ghoul is a trans man but also just doesnt give a shit, and "gerard" and "lucas" (cant wait until they stop using those name) are both nonbinary. there'll be a chapter on gender stuff after the chapter where they get temporary nicknames!
> 
> the other killjoys in this are OCs that i slapped some new names on! there's a second group in the building that the fab four havent met yet.
> 
> again, sorry to leave it like that! the next chapter (hopefully its all one chapter, oof) will be each pov exploring. we're getting out of jets pov!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WGATS upim back
> 
> theres a time jump/pov switch in here marked by some dashes!! i hope it reads okay

Gerard, Lucas, and Jet Star made their way up the stairs, leaving Fun Ghoul to disappear around a corner in his basement search. Lucas’ grip on Gerard’s hand was a welcome change to the nervous picking at his nails he’d been doing while talking to the other killjoys. He looked at Jet Star, whose face was relaxed and even excited. His expressions didn’t always line up with his mood, but this one seemed correct.

They reached the second floor, which seemed to be the remains of a typical office. Broken cubicle walls were scattered throughout the large main room. Supernova and her crew were in one of the separate offices. Whiplash waved again.

“You still going here?” Lucas asked. Gerard nodded, and Lucas let go of his hand. “I’m gonna keep looking.”

Lucas and Jet Star disappeared up the second flight of stairs. Gerard scanned the main room and decided to go inside the nearest standing cubicle, hand hovering over the raygun at his hip just in case. The cubicle was empty, of course, and Gerard let himself relax. There was an old computer monitor, with a dented screen and covered in dust, toppled over on the floor. The desk it most likely used to be on was overturned, and the actual console was nowhere to be seen. Gerard stifled a sneeze at the disturbed dust. 

_I should check one of the side offices._ He stepped out of the cubicle and ventured down the hall, passing a few empty rooms until he spotted a countertop through a doorway on the right. Intrigued, Gerard went farther inside. He was greeted by a small kitchen. _Wonder if there’s anything here…_ He opened a cupboard.

_Score!_ There was a mostly-full box of snack bars and some instant oatmeal. Gerard snatched the boxes and checked the rest of the drawers and cupboards. There was some stray silverware, and even a few boxes of tea! He dumped all of his finds into his bag and headed out of the kitchen with a smile.

“Oh!” A voice made Gerard jump as he turned the corner. Smoke Rings looked just as startled, but laughed shakily. “Sorry, you scared me. You’re Gerard, right?”

Gerard could only nod. Smoke Rings was shorter than him by a good half-foot, but his gaze was intense. Uncomfortable vibe aside, Smoke Rings smiled kindly at him. “Are you new to the Zones?”

“It’s been… a month and a half.”

“You found a crew quick!” Smoke Rings laughed. He paused, making Gerard shuffle on his feet. “Is- I don’t wanna be rude, but why do you go by Gerard?”

“Haven’t picked a name. Me n’ Lucas left together.” He cringed inwardly at the twist of pity on Smoke Rings’ face. He didn’t need a stranger feeling _sorry_ for him; he and Lucas were survivors. They didn’t need _anyone._ In a moment of emotionally-fueled awkwardness, Gerard blurted out, “Gerard’s not even my original name. I panicked when Fun Ghoul asked me because I didn’t want to give him my real name, so I made it up.”

Whiplash’s voice rang through the office. “Hey Smokey! Find anything in the kitchen?”

Smoke Rings flinched, then called back, “Sorry, Gerard’s here and I got caught up talkin’ to him.”

“I was just in there,” Gerard mumbled. “There was some food…” Shit, he’d taken all of it! “Uh. Do you- we could split it, if you wanted…” He got on his knees, opening the bag and pulling out two boxes of snack bars and a box of oatmeal. “There’s also some tea, are you guys into tea? I’ve never seen any out here-”

“Hey, woah,” Smoke Rings said. “No need to panic.”

“I’m not panicking.” _Don’t coddle me._

“Okay. Uh, how ‘bout I take one of the snack boxes and one of the oatmeal ones. You can keep the tea.” Smoke Rings looked over his shoulder, where Whiplash had appeared. She draped herself over the boy’s back with a grin.

“You hit the jackpot. Need anything from us for that stuff?”

“No. No, uh, we’re okay. I took all this stuff without thinking of you guys.” Gerard stood up and thrust the boxes towards Smoke Rings. “Here.”

Smoke Rings took the boxes and handed them to Whiplash, who pushed off of his back and trotted out of view, back to wherever Supernova was. “Sorry about them,” Smoke Rings said. Gerard shrugged and slipped past him. _That was so bad, that was so bad, why did I choose to go here-_ “No problem,” he forced out. He ducked into another cubicle and sat down, trying to control his breathing. _Dammit, just calm down._ What if Smoke Rings felt bad again for startling him and came over here? He’d see a scared, stupid teenager sitting on the dusty carpet, fighting off a panic attack from talking to someone. Nope. no way. Not dealing with that. _Calm the fuck down._

He managed to calm the fuck down. He also managed to feel even more stupid than he already did, sitting on the floor doing nothing while his brother and their gracious hosts did all the work searching this ridiculous office building. _At least I got some food._

He should radio the others.

\----------

Fun Ghoul watched Jet take the lead up the stairs, Gerard and Lucas stuck close together behind him. He leaned to one side to look around the corner of the staircase. There was a small door tucked away that seemed promising. Upon opening it, Ghoul saw it was just a closet. There were lots of old bottles of cleaning fluid, but at this point they’d be more useful as a poison than anything else. Ghoul huffed a sigh and spun around, slamming the door behind him. _What’s a guy gotta do to find a good basement?_ He wasn’t going to find any playing cards, but basements were _fun._ He’d only ever explored one in his life, in a rare abandoned house near where he grew up. There was tons of old furniture that his community was able to use or take apart, and Foxglove had even found a stack of board games and an old stuffed dog!

So yeah. Basements ruled. And Fun Ghoul would be _damned_ if he only saw one his whole life.

He just needed to find an out-of-the-way, borderline suspicious door. One that wasn’t a closet. Another old door came into view, but it was ajar, revealing more cleaning supplies. Ghoul glared at the door, as if he could will it into becoming a basement. _How dirty does one building get, that you need two closets on the first floor?_

This was getting boring fast. Ghoul stared around the dusty marble floors and dull glass windows. The sun shined outside, filtering through and casting bright squares across the floor. There were empty pots that must have had plants in them years ago. Ghoul was getting bored-er faster.

“Ugh.” He _hated_ admitting defeat, but there definitely wasn’t a basement here. _Stupid office._ He grabbed his radio to call Jet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to leave it there but literally all i have written after that is "jet time"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to wait til i was done with lucas' part but thats gonna take a bit so im posting this now aaaaaa

Jet Star watched out of the corner of his eye long enough to see Gerard creep towards one of the empty cubicles before focusing on not tripping over the slightly broken stairs. Lucas was silent behind him, which was fine. As much as Jet loved meeting people, it was really hard for him to get socialization right; Lucas’ own issues with communicating didn’t help. The next floor came into view, and Lucas drifted away from Jet gradually until they stopped at the top of the stairs. Lucas just nodded and headed off down a hallway, leaving Jet to stand alone by the broken elevators.

 _Alright, then._ Jet turned and started the next flight of stairs. _Really wish those elevators worked._

The fourth floor was empty. Like, _empty,_ empty. Light streamed unbroken from the large windows, illuminating the dust like fireflies. Papers and posterboard and a few stacks of cardboard boxes littered the floor, like the whole room had been wiped out by a tornado. Other people must have gone through this floor long ago, maybe even before the building itself had been abandoned. Jet picked his way through the large room, to a small corridor with a single door at its end.

Jet shrugged. “If there’s any roof access, it’s here,” he mumbled to himself, opening the door.

 _Fuck yes!_ The short staircase led to another door, which he could see sunlight peeking through in the tiny gap at the bottom. Jet managed to yank the old door open and stepped out, narrowing his eyes against the sudden light. He couldn’t help throwing his arms out to the sides against the breeze, reveling in the _woosh_ noise it made when he dropped them down again.

From up here, Jet could see the small shape of the diner, and far past it, the imposing shadow of Battery City. He shuddered at the memory of Dracs grabbing him as he ran, almost stopping his escape entirely before he managed to swipe one of their rayguns and…

Jet turned away from the City, staring out at the Zones ahead. Despite his years in the desert, he still couldn’t stomach what he’d done to get here in the first place. It had gained him some respect, joining the Zones with a kill count already, but it made people assume things about him that he didn’t like. His first crew encouraged the violence. He got good at killing people. And while he had no sympathy for Dracs, he had too much empathy- or that’s what they told him. But as he got used to the Zones, he got more comfortable with his flow of emotions and connection to others, and ditched the crew. Last he checked, they were still out there, and he wished them the best, but he was happy to never speak to them again.

Even with the Sun beating down, Jet enjoyed sitting on the rooftop and watching the tiny movements in the sand below. He’d run with a few crews that admired his watchfulness as a skill, but he enjoyed staring off into space without any goal, too. The way the breeze moved the shrubs and grass made the desert floor look alive, broken rarely by a bird or some other animal rustling around.

A dull thump and muffled voices made Jet stand and turn quickly, making him regrettably dizzy. He padded back to the door, easing it open and peering inside.

There was a group in the empty room now. Jet counted six, sifting through the boxes and papers. A tall, heavy-set person with lighter patches on their dark skin noticed him and half-trotted over.

“Hi! How long have you been outside?” They brushed some of their long curly hair out of their face, similar to Jet’s. It made his brain all twisted and confused, but he pushed down the anxiety and straightened up.

“Dunno,” he replied unhelpfully. “The rest of my crew is around here, though, so I’m alright.” He looked back to the person’s face, sparing a glance to their dull green eyes. “You’ve got quite the operation here; you looking for anything?”

The person glanced behind them at their crew, hand on their hip and a small smile on their face. “Nah, I don’t think so. These guys just like to explore every little thing. Oh! I’m Puzzle, by the way; she/her.”

“Jet Star, he/him.” He watched Puzzle’s hands move as she spoke, and as they returned to her chest when she crossed her arms again. “We’re here to explore, too. ‘Cept for playing cards; we need some playing cards.” _Be proud of me, Ghoul; I’m braving small talk for your precious cards._

“I’ll keep an eye out!” Puzzle beamed.

“Hey,” another voice called, making Puzzle perk up and turn around. A dark-skinned, willowy person had approached, standing a few yards away. “Umbra’s having trouble reading somethin’, can you help ‘im?”

“Oh, totally. Bye, Jet Star, nice meeting you!” Puzzle made her way over to a short boy with black hair. Jet gave a half-hearted wave to the person who’d gotten her attention. They were about his height, and nodded shortly as they smiled.

“I’m her brother,” they said, “Name’s Holly Fangs, he/him. I like your name.”

“I like _yours!”_ He’d never had the courage to put something like _Fangs_ in his name. He always worried having anything remotely badass would lead to more people expecting him to be rude or violent. Holly Fangs had a long thin scar going from the top of his forehead, where it parted a small amount of his dark hair, to just above his eyebrow. He had the same sharp hooked nose as Puzzle’s. _Biological, then?_

Jet’s hand found its way to his belt loop, tugging nervously. He liked talking to people, he really did, but it got overwhelming fast. He could feel other members of the crew glancing at him as they passed, and it was starting to make him sweat. “I, uh- I should get back to my own crew,” he stammered. Holly nodded and stepped to the side, opening a space where Jet could make a beeline for the door- like he understood how he was feeling. He paused to look at Holly again; the boy was avoiding his eyes in a way that looked purposeful. Jet shook out his head briefly and mumbled a goodbye as he half-jogged to the exit.

As soon as the old door shut behind him, Jet leaned his back against the wall and slid a good few inches before grounding his feet. He let out a long sigh, curling and uncurling his fingers to calm down. He straightened back up and walked down the hall, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, until his radio crackled to life against his thigh.

 _“Hey, Jet,”_ Ghoul’s slightly garbled voice said from the speaker, _“There ain’t shit down here, where are you right now?”_

“I’m still on the fourth floor,” Jet said, gripping the radio a little too tightly. “It’s empty up here, but there’s another crew sweeping the place. Six people.”

_“You wanna check out one a’ the other floors?”_

Jet practically deflated in relief. He wouldn’t have to recover alone. “Destroya, yes.”

Ghoul, looking particularly dejected, met Jet at the landing on the third floor where he and Lucas had parted. He hadn’t heard anything from him, but then again he hadn’t heard from Gerard, either. Jet accepted Ghoul’s outstretched hand, swinging it idly as they stood in the quiet. Ghoul briefly rested his head against Jet’s shoulder, and he heard him take a slow breath to speak.

“No basement that I could find,” he murmured. Jet hummed in acknowledgement. He didn’t expect an office building to have one, but wasn’t going to stop Ghoul from looking.

“I _did_ get to the roof,” Jet said. “It was nice to sit up there. You can see the Diner.” Ghoul didn’t reply, but that was pretty normal. Still holding Jet’s hand, he pulled him towards the hallway, but stopped.

“Which way did Lucas go?”

“Same way,” Jet said, pointing to the hall. “We should radio him,” he added. Lucas probably wouldn’t react well to them coming out of nowhere. Ghoul nodded and let go of Jet’s hand for his radio. Wrapping an arm around his waist and propping his elbow on it as he held the speaker close to his face.

“Yo, Lucas, you there?”

There was a beat of silence, then Lucas’ voice coming through the speaker, _“Yeah, what is it?”_

“Me n’ Jet ‘re on the third floor, can we join ya?”

 _“...Sure. I’m on- I’m at… I’m at, uhh…”_ There was a lull on his end, and a noise like he was shuffling around wherever he was. _“Room 110. Oh, Gerard called me n’ said he wanted to regroup- can you get him?”_

“Why didn’t he just- whatever. We’ll get him and be right there, aight?” When Lucas mumbled a yes, Ghoul put his radio back in his pocket and took Jet’s hand again. “Off we go!”

Jet managed to get in touch with Gerard before they found him, if only to warn him they were coming. He figured Gerard was too nervous to contact them directly, and doubled down on that guess when he saw him sitting just outside the entryway, knees loosely hugged to his chest. He looked up at them with tired eyes, but got up smoothly and held up his bag.

“I got some snack food,” he announced.

“Cool!” Ghoul chirped, taking the bag not-so-gently and looking inside. “Hell yeah, oatmeal. Have you ever had the straight powder?” Gerard shook his head. “These maple ones are super sweet on their own,” Ghoul continued, “Still pretty good the normal way, though. Apple cinnamon is best as a proper oatmeal. And _these-”_ he grabbed a box of granola bars, “-are so _fucking_ good, dude, I haven’t had these in years. And _tea?_ Dude-”

“We should go upstairs,” Gerard interrupted. There was the slightest sharpness to his voice, and Jet wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not. Gerard always looked the smallest bit upset at all times; it took Jet a bit to realize it wasn’t his own anxiety just making him _think_ Gerard was angry. He just… looked angry most of the time. Jet selfishly hoped it would fade as he got more used to being in a crew.

“Ah shit, yeah.” Closing Gerard’s bag and tossing it back to him, Ghoul let Jet pull him back towards the stairs. Gerard sped up to take the lead, and Jet started what he hoped would be his last trek upwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jets autism: i love talking to people but only if its about things i like also im paranoid that everyone hates me  
> ghouls autism: what the fuck is up im here to be a nuisance. wait why are you leaving
> 
> yknow whats hard? translating cat designs into human ones. ive inadvertently assigned races to my warrior cats ocs  
> but we have a little jet backstory now! hes not a sole survivor of some tragedy like most ppl do lol. its so funny how common that is. my hc is that he bounced around a few crews before running alone and then meeting ghoul.
> 
> (dont ask how the radios work i dont know either)


	7. Chapter 7

The ever-present jingle of Jet’s necklaces and chains had faded into Lucas’ daily background fairly quickly, but as he was left alone with him, the sound became a reminder that Lucas had left himself alone with someone other than Gerard. He fought the paranoia creeping up his back, but ultimately decided to drift away from his side until the space between them felt comfortable. They reached the top of the stairs, and Jet briefly looked at him; his gaze hovered somewhere around his collarbone rather than his eyes. Lucas settled for a short nod and turned to ~~flee~~ ~~_power walk_~~ _-_ ...walk purposefully down the closest hallway.

Jet’s jingling faded (in the literal sense this time) as Lucas walked, and he could feel the pressure leave his chest. He felt bad for not trusting Jet, but it wasn’t something he’d ever been able to control. Gerard was the only person he’d _ever_ been able to depend on. He could barely remember their original parents; both of them had been replaced when he was about six. He wasn’t supposed to tell the difference, he thinks.

But Gerard did. And he told Lucas. Gerard would always tell him what was going on. And when he started hallucinating, Gerard would tell him what was and wasn’t real. He was his rock, his protection, his only person in the world.

And then they’d left the City, and the world was suddenly so much bigger, so much scarier, and Gerard stayed by his side. Even when he nearly got them caught when he stole as much of his meds from the hospital as he could in some desperate hope that they would help (they never had, never would). Even when he got into a fight with another kid, one week in, and left long scratches down their shoulders. Even when he got nightmares and woke Gerard up to talk. Even when he got sick, forcing Gerard to accept help from two strangers.

He was at the end of the hall.

A large room opened up in front of him, with glass pane walls like the office Gerard went into. There was a long counter to the right, with more glass separating it from the rows of chairs and an empty fish tank in the room. A shudder ran up his back as he realized it was a waiting room. He brushed his hands up and down his arms, trying to distract from the phantom feeling of tape and IV needles, and the sting of whatever medicine slathered all over his arms underneath tight bandages. This wasn’t a hospital. It was an office building with a waiting room on the third floor. He was Lucas, he had no last name, he lived in the desert with his older brother Gerard, with no last name, and he was staying with two other killjoys. Gerard was a floor below him. He _wasn’t in the hospital._

Lucas shoved past the door, forcing himself to enter the waiting room. There was a door at the far right corner, just past the counter, and another on the other side of the fish tank. He took the fish tank door for its slight closeness to the exit. It opened to a hall going either direction, but there was also a door directly across from him. Not keen on getting lost on the hospital-adjacent floor, he went in.

The room was small, with a desk on the far side against a dirty window, a couch on the left wall, and a short bookshelf on the right. He spotted a familiar intricate red-and-white patterned box in a small basket of old broken toys and reached for it, excited to see he was right- playing cards! _Ghoul’s gonna be stoked._ He slid his messenger bag to his front and put the cards away, then sat on the floor to read the titles of the books lining the shelves. There were a lot he didn’t understand, probably some medical jargon he never learned, but he sure could read the phrase _mental disorders._ He grabbed the large, blue book, examining the cover.

The Diagnostic And Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders was exactly what it sounded like. He’d never seen it in the offices of the Doctors at Battery City, but they’d never diagnosed him with anything, either. Just prescribed more medicine that didn’t work and told him to have a Better day. Maybe what he had was too rare? He didn’t think it would be very public information, but he’d never heard of anyone in Battery City seeing and hearing things that weren’t real. No one else was paranoid like him, or got stuck repeating their sentences, or acted so _weird_ and _indifferent_ like him.

He opened the index and flipped to H. Might as well start with the most obvious issue.

After some looking, Lucas had found his way to a section on Schizophrenia and Psychotic Disorders. He skimmed through the introductions until he found a list of symptoms that made him stop.

_A. Characteristic symptoms: Two (or more) of the following, each present for a significant portion of time during a 1-month period (or less if successfully treated):_

_(1) delusions_

_(2) hallucinations_

_(3) disorganized speech (e.g., frequent derailment or incoherence)_

_(4) grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior_

_(5) negative symptoms, i.e., affective flattening, alogia, or avolition_

Even more words he couldn’t piece together, but there was enough that jumped out to make him pause. There was more than one disorder in this section. Which meant that there were a significant amount of people like him that warranted a _book_ being written about his experiences. He might not know which specific disorder he had, but this was _something._

Had Battery City really just _let_ him grow up feeling alone? Like he was the first and only person to turn out like this? There was _evidence;_ real documentation of schizophrenia and psychosis and a slew of other names that may or may not fit him. Battery City _abandoned_ him when they realized they couldn’t fix the problem.

Lucas did not like to see himself as an angry person. He redirected all his negative emotions towards himself and hurt himself to distract from the bad thoughts and feelings. It didn’t matter that his logic was flawed, it made him feel better and, in hindsight, probably postponed his suicide attempt. Lucas Hille was a peacemaker, that’s what his teachers said.

But Lucas Hille was a citizen of Battery City. Lucas Hille was not a desert-dwelling rebel that wore bright colors and short sleeves that didn’t cover his scars. Lucas Hille might as well have died that night in April. His name was Lucas, he didn’t have a last name, and he was a killjoy.

And Lucas, with no last name, was _angry._

He slammed the book shut and stared at the cover like it could answer his questions. _Why, why, why?_ Why was he born this way? Why did Battery City, did Better Living, do nothing? Why had they continued to treat him like a problem child, rather than a child with a problem? _Why, why, why, why, why?_ He stood up, book clutched to his chest, and looked out the window. The coarse grass and shrubs barely moved in the gentle breeze, and Lucas felt suddenly trapped in the stagnant air of the office building. He had to get out, had to get out, _had to get out. Get out now. Get out. Get out. Find a way out, find an escape before they notice you-_

 _I'm not in the hospital. My name is Lucas, my brother is downstairs, I have two new friends in the same building, it's all fine._ Lucas drummed his fingers on the book and watched the thin clouds pass. _Radio Gerard, idiot._ There was no reason for him to stay here, he'd found playing cards, for Destroya's sake! He shoved the book into his bag with the cards and pulled out the radio Ghoul had given him, heading back out the door, out of the hallway, and darting out of the waiting room.

After fiddling with the dials, he managed to get on the right frequency to call Gerard. Lucas was in the process of gathering himself to say something, when Gerard's voice cut through the static.

_"Hey Lucas, you there?"_

All he could manage was a small "Yeah."

_"Cool, do you think you could call Jet Star or Fun Ghoul and ask to regroup? I've kinda done all I can here."_

"Uh." Lucas paused. Gerard clearly didn't want to ask for help himself, but Lucas wasn't in the best shape, either. "Sure," he said, despite his entirely valid reasons to refuse.

But he heard Gerard sigh in relief, and knew he couldn't go back on his word now. _"Thanks so much, man, sorry to ask you that. Have you found anything?"_

"Yeah! Yeah, I found the." _Fucking- goddammit just talk-_ "Uhhh. Yeah! I found the playing cards." Good enough.

_"Awesome! I found instant oatmeal and snack bars- and tea! I haven't seen any out here til now. They're still sealed, too. Should be fuckin' awesome."_

"Nice," was all Lucas said. It was response enough for Gerard to keep talking.

_"Okay, I'll see you soon. Thanks so much for calling the others for me. I love you!"_

"Love you, too." He switched the radio off of Gerard's call with a smile. "Love you, love you." _Love you, love you, love you._ His repetition- which was a part of his psychosis or whatever now, he guessed- was bothersome and hard to work around, but sometimes it meant he got to rattle off nice phrases like _I love you_ endlessly. "Love you!" He'd been smiling since the end of the call, and his cheeks were starting to hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset about it. 

The fun was gone when he remembered what he'd promised Gerard. _Ah dammit, I have to call Jet and Ghoul._

One awkward conversation with Jet and Ghoul later- they’d regrouped, themselves- Lucas sat against the wall outside the waiting room. He’d remembered the number on the plaque outside the office he went into, but there was no way he was going back in there. Jet and Ghoul would find him just as easily, and they’d bring Gerard with them. He had to admit he was _very_ eager to get back at his brother’s side; they hadn’t spent this much time apart since a month ago when Gerard started a fight and had been taken in overnight by a small group for medical attention. They were nice, and very understanding of Lucas’ need to be near him, but he didn’t want a repeat of that anytime soon.

Lost in memories, Lucas didn’t hear his friends approaching until a high-pitched squawk came from Ghoul a few feet in front of him. Jet’s arm was wrapped around his waist, pulling him back sharply with a glare. Gerard took a few wide steps to kneel down and scoot next to Lucas, leaning against him and pulling his bag into his lap.

“Ghoul keeps talking about eating straight oatmeal powder. And Jet just had to stop him from assaulting you.”

A sudden laugh escaped him at that. “Why the, why the fuck- Ghoul, what the fuck?” He looked up at the black-haired boy, who was pacing back and forth in front of Jet. He grinned wide, but didn’t supply an answer. “I got your fuckin’ playing cards, I got your fuckin’ playing cards and this is how you- thank me?”

“You got cards!?” Ghoul exclaimed at the same time as Jet. Ghoul lurched forward, but stopped himself and walked slower towards him. “Can I see ‘em?” Lucas opened his bag and moved the book out of the way to grab the cards and hand them to Ghoul, who pulled them out of the box and flipped through them for a moment, eyes bright. “Hell yes, thanks so much dude, no one else could find any!”

Lucas had no idea why the praise made him blush, but he managed to smile back. “No- no problem.”

“What else was in there?” Gerard asked.

“Oh. I found this, this, like- I found a book. Of mental disorders? And it looked cool. And it looked cool.” _And I think I found myself in it and I still don’t know how to feel about that._

“Weird. We should look through it when we get home.” Gerard leaned on the wall as he stood, and Lucas took the hand he held out. Jet led the way down to the first floor, and he made out something about another crew at the top floor, but Lucas found himself distracted on the walk to the Diner. The book’s weight in his bag felt thousands of times heavier than it should have been, and he could feel small indents in Gerard’s fingers- a pretty obvious sign he’d bitten down on them. _I’ll have to ask about_ that _later._

The familiar disorganization of cushions and blankets piled in the center of the Diner was a welcome change to the eerie quiet of the office building, and the hot sun outside. Lucas let himself fall into his favorite dull green pillow, dragging Gerard down with him. Gerard had no issue tossing his bag to the side and slotting himself beside Lucas, arm slung over his chest.

“I’m not moving for a week,” he grumbled into Lucas’ shirt.

“I’ll second that,” Jet said somewhere out of sight behind them.

“You’re gonna have to move,” Ghoul said, ruffling Lucas’ hair as he walked past. “Because we’re playing Bullshit tonight!”

Lucas propped himself up on his elbows, making Gerard roll off of him with a groan. He could see Jet sliding out of one of the booths and following Ghoul to the pillows. “We don’t know how to play, how to play,” Lucas said.

“It’s easy enough,” Jet replied. “You’ll pick it up as you go.”

Ghoul nodded, pushing a blanket out of the way so he could shuffle the cards. “Just sit up n’ we’ll teach you!”

“Why’s it even _called_ that?” Gerard asked, sounding upset but looking interested.

“Oh, it’s ‘cause you have to lie about what card you have,” Jet replied. He took the shuffled cards from Ghoul and started passing them out. “You split the whole deck evenly, and then whoever has the ace of spades puts their card down…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma be real, i dont love how this ends, but no way in hell was i gonna write the four playing bullshit. thats way too boring
> 
> literally the whole point of this goddamn office building ARC was for lucas to find the dsm-v. and then i built a bunch of stuff around it and it got so out of hand.  
> the four of them have a conversation about lucas' possible diagnoses off-screen. i really didnt feel a need to write it; ive never liked reading fics with a ton of mental health terms in them for whatever reason. lucas is schizophrenic/has schizophrenic traits, and the crew deals with it accordingly. no point in writing the conversation where they figure it out
> 
> the next chapter has been sitting around almost-finished for a while now, it should be out soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes place like two weeks after the office trip

The market sprawled out before them, which was strange considering it’s relatively small size. Something in the way it was packed together made it feel larger than it was on the inside, with tight confusing turns in between hastily put-together stands and loud chatter from every direction. Jet Star was leading the way, with Fun Ghoul and Lucas close behind. Gerard stayed at the back, a nervous habit that let him keep an eye on Lucas in the halls at school. And now he could use it in the wild, unpredictable desert, with little to no questioning.

“Hey, Jet!” The man smiled, propping his hands up on his table. “What can I do ya for?”

“Hi, Daisy,” Jet Star put a hand on his hip, scanning the assorted items. “Is this rope yucca?”

“Yup,” Daisy replied, popping the ‘p’ at the end. He picked up the thin cord and ran it between his hands. He glanced past Jet Star and landed on Lucas. “Who’re your friends here?”

“That’s Lucas and Gerard. We picked ‘em up a few weeks ago,” Jet said. Lucas brushed his hand against Gerard’s, shifting under Daisy’s gaze. Gerard heard him repeating their names under his breath nervously.

Daisy briefly looked Lucas and Gerard up-and-down. “You neutrals?” He asked.

“No,” Gerard huffed, “we just don’t have names yet.”

Fun Ghoul nudged past Gerard and Lucas. “Doesn’t matter. How much you want for the rope, Daisy?” Gerard watched Daisy pause, probably making eye contact with Fun Ghoul, if the kid’s tense posture was any clue.

“15 carbons.” Daisy looked to Jet Star, “I should be sayin’ 20; made it myself.” He held out the rope.

Jet Star took it from him, holding a tight grip on the bundle and sliding over the carbons. “Thanks so much, Daisy. See you next time!” He turned quickly and headed down the market pathway, leaving Fun ghoul, Gerard, and Lucas to catch up.

“He was pissed,” Fun Ghoul mumbled. He reached Jet Star with a few long strides, leaning heavily into his side. “Thought you liked Daisy.”

“I did,” Jet Star growled, “until he decided to doubt who I made friends with.” Gerard looked up at Jet Star’s face. He was so difficult to anger; more prone to worry or frustration. But right now he was definitely _angry._ Did he really care that much about him and Lucas? They’d only known each other for a few weeks! _Do I trust Jet Star as much as he trusts me?_

“He was probably just worried we’d start trouble,” Lucas said, ever the peacemaker. “Just worried about trouble. Trouble worrier.” He shook his head, trying to stop the repetition. “We kind of stick out here. Do neutrals usually pick fights?”

“Nah, but they sure can throw a hissyfit over how we do things out here,” Fun Ghoul replied, twisting around from his position of clinging to Jet Star’s side. “Some of ‘em are okay; chill about the different cultures, but most of ‘em are preachy as _hell._ ‘S annoying. Markets like these-” He squeaked as Jet Star took a turn, making him trip, “Fuck, Jet, I’m walkin’ here.” He ignored Jet Star’s exasperated sigh and Lucas’ laugh, and continued talking. “Our markets don’t take too kindly to people who’re gonna bitch about us.”

Jet Star suddenly wriggled out of Fun Ghoul’s grasp. “Nail polish,” was all he said as he made a beeline for a stand. Fun Ghoul stayed put, so Gerard just watched Jet Star pick up each of the three bottles and inspect them.

“He already has more nail polish than anyone in the Zones, I don’t know why he needs _more.”_ Fun Ghoul mumbled. Despite his complaining, he smiled as Jet Star bought a bottle of polish and turned around with a huge grin, holding up the blue bottle. “Nevermind; blue’s the color he has the least of.”

“I don’t have any of this shade!” Jet Star said excitedly as he came back to the group. “It is so hard to find this mid-range blue. All I have is indigo and cyan, and _maybe_ some pastel blue. Fucking impossible!” He turned the bottle over and over in his hands with the excitement of a child given an unexpected present. Gerard thought that maybe, in a way, the polish was an unexpected present. It wasn’t surprising that Jet Star would hoard it if it was hard to come by.

With Jet Star’s extra purchase, the four of them were ready to head back to the diner. They’d restocked the basic canned food (Gerard couldn’t help feeling bad that, with four of them now, they had to buy more) and gotten the yucca rope from Daisy, even with his hangup on Gerard and Lucas’ names. He was still surprised at how sour the man had turned when he thought they were neutrals. How many people new to the Zones had been treated the same way, just because they hadn’t chosen a name? _And how does everyone here just pick their names?_ Gerard thought, glancing at Jet Star. He’d been a killjoy for what, four years? How long had it taken him to choose his name? And what about Fun Ghoul, or Whiplash, or anyone else Gerard had met?

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Lucas said. They’d made it outside of the market, and were probably halfway to the diner already.

“Killjoy names.”

“You’re not upset about Daisy, are you? That guy was just being an asshole.”

“Nah, nah. I’m just thinking… What do we do until we pick names? Just, like, let people assume shit about us? Doesn’t sound great.”

“You could always pick some nicknames until you choose more ‘official’ ones,” Jet Star said, not turning towards them.

“Everyone called me ‘kid’ or said ‘hey, you over there’ until I picked Fun Ghoul.”

Jet Star’s hair swished with his nod. “I went by my first initial for, like, five months.”

“Let’s think of nicknames!” Fun Ghoul cheered. “I vote Thing One and Thing Two.”

“You don’t even know what that is,” Jet Star chuckled.

“Yeah, but it speaks for itself, don’t it?”

“I don’t know, does it?”

Fun Ghoul was silent for a moment. “Fine, what’s it mean, then?” He grumbled.

“Oh, no, you were right,” Jet Star said, adjusting the strap on his bag nonchalantly. “I just wanted to mess with you.”

“Man, fuck you!” Fun Ghoul lunged forward to grab onto the back of Jet Star’s jacket. “I thought I’d really messed up there; made a damn fool of myself! And I _did,_ but in the way _you_ wanted me to!” He practically tried to climb up Jet Star, who laughed and pushed him aside. They were approaching the diner now. Fun Ghoul continued to ram into Jet Star as they made their way inside. The four of them put their bags down on the front counter to organize and put away later. Fun Ghoul took Jet Star by the sleeve and pulled him to the center of the main room, where a nest of pillows and bedding sat as a communal sitting space. Gerard and Lucas followed, sitting across from them.

Fun Ghoul slapped the pillow in front of him purposefully. “So. Nicknames. Y’all got ideas?”

Gerard shrugged. Lucas made a noncommittal noise.

“You guys are no fun. Come on, like, what kinda stuff do you like? Enough to be named after. You got favorite animals? Colors? Gimme _something.”_

“I’m gonna be real with you,” Lucas said, “I’m gonna be real with you. Real with you- I don’t remember a whole lot about, uh, my whole, like, self. ‘S kinda blurry. Kinda blurry and probably not useful nickname fuel.”

“We could call you Broken Record,” Gerard said, because he knew Lucas wouldn’t be mad at him for saying it. Lucas threw a look of fake hurt and shoved him sideways. Gerard snorted and pushed him back.

“Maybe I’ll call you Garbageboy, shithead.”

“Garbageboy Shithead? That’s quite a name.” He let out a stupid giggle as Lucas came at him with another barrage of harmless slaps to the shoulder.

“Sounds like a keeper to me,” Fun Ghoul chimed. “Witch, as soon as y’all forget we’re here you finally chill out.” He seemed to realize what he said was weird when Gerard and Lucas stared at him, and put his hands up. “I’m just saying it’s nice! Let me be genuine for once!”

Jet Star patted Fun Ghoul on the shoulder. “It’s aight, they’ll figure out the Fun Ghoul Conversation Manual soon enough.”

Fun ghoul waved his hands around, slapping at Jet Star’s own hands. “Whatever! Stop distracting from the nickname process!” He pointed at Gerard. “You. You’re batshit fucking crazy sometimes. All angry n’ shit. Like a goddamn brush fire.” He pointed to Lucas. “Me n’ you, we both repeat shit. I like that about us. You got lots to say, lotsa noises to make.” He held his arms out to his sides. “Can we do anythin’ with that?”

Gerard looked at Lucas. He blinked at him to say, _Are you hearing this shit?_ Lucas gave a miniscule smile and rolled his eyes. _It’s weird, but I like it._ Gerard shrugged and looked at Fun Ghoul, who was rocking back and forth gently. “So, basically what you had to say was that I’m fiery and Lucas is a parrot.”

“If you wanna put it like that, then sure.”

“Honestly, Parrot could be a fun name,” Jet Star said, “but I’m afraid of how many people out here won’t know what parrots are.” Before Fun Ghoul could say anything, Jet added, “They’re a kind of bird that can repeat noises really well.”

“Then what about Bird?” Fun Ghoul suggested. “You whistle like one.” Lucas’ face darkened with a blush at the mention of his habit. “And it’s cool!” Fun Ghoul added hastily. “Bird is a cool name. You could pick a specific bird, if you wanted? You could be Hawk, or Wren.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Lucas laughed. “Bird seems like the right direction. What about you Gerard? Wanna take Ghoul’s idea and call yourself Brush Fire?”

“Literally die.”

“Fire seems to be your entire demeanor, Gerard,” Jet Star said with a smile. “But you tend to, like, flare up in small bursts.”

“Is this fucking poetry night? Should I call Cherri Cola and tell him you two are taking over?”

“You aren’t helping your case,” Jet Star smirked.

“Literally oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my god, I’m gonna turn into Lucas or Bird or whatever your name is now.” He grabbed Lucas’ arm. “Teach me your ways, Birdie, I’m gonna talk myself into oblivion.”

“I really like Birdie!”

“I’m so glad you’ve found yourself, Birdie, now help me analyze my personality and behaviors for a suitable _nickname.”_

Lucas pushed him off with a breathless laugh. “I mean, you’ve always loved to start shit, how about Spark?”

“Wonderful. Amazing. I’m small and annoying and I can cause mass destruction under the right circumstances. It’s perfect.”

“Not too far off of how we got here,” Lucas (Birdie?) quipped.

“Spark is kind of rad,” Jet Star interjected. “Very killjoy of you.”

“Yeah, I’m a fuckin’ revolutionary.” Something clicked inside Gerard, and he kept talking. “Gonna change the whole world. One shitty spark at a time. I’ve already made my reputation in the City; might as well keep it going out here.” He thought of IVs dangling from their bags after being ripped out. Toppled-over beds and tables. A mad dash out whatever doors they could find. Birdie’s too-thin hand gripped in his. “Man, I shoulda set something on _fire,”_ he continued, leaning into Birdie. “Not the hospital, obviously. That’s not fair. Maybe just a dumpster. Or one of the Crow stations. Y’know the ones near our house? For emergencies or whatever?”

He felt Birdie shift beside him, and a hand on his knee. “Dude, chill out,” Birdie said with a nervous laugh.

“Did you break out of a hospital?” Fun Ghoul asked, looking intrigued as opposed to Jet’s concern.

Gerard- or maybe Spark- paused, curling in on himself. Why on Earth had he said that? He gave a short sigh. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna talk about it. My point is, Spark is fitting. I got off track.” _Way off fucking track,_ he chided himself. It wasn’t even his story to tell. He glanced at Birdie, but his brother didn’t look upset.

“Aww, do we got Birdie and Sparky now?” Fun Ghoul chirped, unaware or unaffected by Spark’s change in mood.

“No, fuck you, I am not being called _Sparky._ That’s like, a dog name. It’s just Spark.” _My name is Spark,_ he thought, surprised at the warm feeling that seeped through him.

“Well, Spark, Birdie, welcome to the team!” Jet said. “These names are good placeholders, and you could probably keep ‘em like this if you wanted!” He leaned forward to put a hand on Birdie’s shoulder, and briefly patted Spark’s knee as he pulled away. “Now assholes won’t assume y’all’re some kinda centrists.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is the chapter ive been dying to post!! i love some Good Banter and i finally get to stop using gerard as a name. that was supposed to be a Little Funnie Joke about gerard not sounding like a real name. and it lasted seven chapters. kms
> 
> i dont have ANYTHING written for the next chapter so rip i guess. nother long wait for that one. i am genuinely sorry for the absolutely wack posting "schedule" i have, i only write when Inspiration strikes and its entirely unpredictable.


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